His Little Wife
by xxxEmma3xxx
Summary: What if the Beast's stab wound didn't just disappear when the spell was broken? Gaston fans rejoice: he survives.
1. Chapter 1

What if:

- Gaston wasn't chucked off the roof AND

- The beast's stab wound, instead of disappearing when the spell was broken, stayed fatal?

* * *

Gaston blinked. A minute ago there had just been a dead Beast but now there was a dead _person_, (a handsome one, too) and these cheerfully unnatural sparkles drifting down out of the sky.

He brushed them out of his face. "Belle, we're going." Without bothering to wait for her to agree with him, he bent over and scooped her up in his arms. For a horrible second she clung to the body and it rose up in the air with her, but when Gaston shook her authoritatively, Belle let go and the Beast (person?) clunked back down to the stone floor.

Gaston threw his woman over his shoulder like a very weepy sack of potatoes. He strode back across the terrace, through the West Wing, and back down the main staircase. When he got back to the entrance hall, toting Belle's limp body the entire way, he ran into some townspeople who were trying to set fire to a wardrobe.

"Forget that dresser," he ordered. "This castle is cursed. Burn the whole thing." The villagers just stared at him, so he shouted "I said burn it!" and kept going.

He didn't even wait around to see that his orders were carried out. He'd taken care of the Beast and now the important thing was to take care of Belle. He could hear her sobbing "Beast…no…" over and over again, but he generously didn't take any steps to shut her up.

She was a little crazy, that was all. She'd come around. He swung her up onto a horse and climbed on behind her. "Now, hold on, Belle, you don't want to fall and get hurt," he cautioned. She didn't even seem to hear him.

Gaston growled and set off for town.

* * *

The chilly night air cleared Belle's head out a little bit. The Beast was dead! Gaston, that _monster _Gaston, had killed him in cold blood and was now carrying her off!

Belle started to struggle, but Gaston held her easily with one arm. "Will you quit it?" he snarled. "You're going to get us both killed."

"Good!" Belle snapped back. "I'd _rather _be killed than be wed to _you_, you evil, heartless creature!"

"Evil? Heartless? Belle!" Gaston wanted to force her to look at him, but considering they were riding the same horse the best he could do was grab her hair and tilt her head all the way back. He struggled to glare down at her, but his huge chest was in the way and he couldn't really achieve eye contact. "I came to _save _you from a creature that had cast a spell on you, and this is the thanks I get? Look at me?"

"I can't look at you, you cretin, because you're holding onto my hair. Let _go_." She brought both hands to the back of her head and tried to pry apart Gaston's gigantic fist.

He let go with a patient sigh, and she twisted around to glare over her shoulder. "I hate you," she said clearly. "You're a murderer and I'll never forgive you for what you've done. Never," she repeated, her eyes tearing up.

Gaston kept his eyes on the road. "She'll come around," he said aloud. And he was sure she would.

* * *

As soon as they got back to the village, Gaston dragged Belle to the church. The priest, one of the few who had not gone on the beast-hunt, was asleep, so Gaston woke him by throwing rocks at his window.

"It's time for a wedding," Gaston shouted from the street. "Marry us here and now. Belle and I are so _eager _that we just can't wait until morning."

She slapped him across the face as hard as she could.

Gaston counted to two for patience, then grabbed her by the shoulders and dragged her close. "I don't want to hear a word from you except _I do_," he hissed. "Understand? Or I'll take steps. We've already had one hunt tonight, I'd hate to have to start up another."

"A hunt for what?" Belle demanded. "You've already killed everyone that matt- Oh! You mean you'll tell them to hunt my _father_?"

Gaston shrugged and gave her a wide, innocent smile. "Sorcerers disguise themselves as crazy old inventors all the time. If the townspeople start to believe that Maurice is a threat, well, they're just in one of those _moods_, Belle. I wouldn't be surprised if they start building a gallows this very night. Don't push me."

Belle's mouth moved without sound. Then she finally managed, "Y-you wouldn't."

"Wouldn't I?" Gaston shoved her through the church doors and led her up to the altar, finding that her hair made a convenient set of reins. He frowned when a few of the Beast's sparkles fell from her ponytail.

While she _did _weep silently through the whole ceremony, Belle said _I do _in the proper places, and within a few minutes she was Madame Gaston.

Her new husband led (dragged) her out of the church as soon as it was over. He stared down at her in the moonlight, his long black hair in disarray for the first time she could remember. "To honor and obey, Belle," he reminded her sternly. "Now and forever."

Belle's eyes narrowed and her voice was low. "Yes, Gaston. Til death do us part."

* * *

The End…

Or is it? I'm not sure where this story is going. At first I intended it to be a love story between Belle and Gaston, but it seems like kind of an inauspicious beginning. I dunno. What do you think?


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: After writing Pirates of the Caribbean stuff for over a year straight, I've finally decided to pay attention to this story and let it become super giant... provided people are actually interested. What this means is: review! When people comment, I get motivated to update quickly. That's how it goes.

Enjoy!

* * *

The Beast opened his eyes, then closed them again immediately. It was far too bright out and far too blurry. "Who's there?" 

Instead of the deep, gravelly rumble he was expecting, though, his voice came out high and clear. Human.

"Am I dreaming? What happened? Belle? Belle, is that you?"

"Open your eyes," a firm female voice commanded. "Do I look like your little farm girl, Prince?"

The prince forced himself to look, blinking and squinting until his vision cleared. Although it had been years, he recognized the Enchantress without difficulty. She was as radiant as the day she had cursed him…and as unwelcome. "I want Belle. Where's Belle? Why can't I move?"

The Enchantress sighed. "I came to congratulate you when I felt my spell lifting. I expected to find you in some wench's rapturous embrace... but instead, here you are: stabbed and dying. Not to mention your woman's been carried off by the one who killed you. I suppose this is the end, after all these years. It is not the end I had expected."

"Belle…carried off?" He saved up his energy for the words that mattered.

The Enchantress nodded. "Yes. A shame, that. She was a nice girl with a good heart. You could have learned from her - _she_ didn't judge a book by its cover, did she."

"Help me." His eyes refused to focus. "I love her. She said she... loves me... too. I don't know how I've been -_ah_- ... so lucky. Please. Help me-" He stopped, to cough up blood.

"There's no such thing as a happy ending," the Enchantress told him flatly. "I should know. How many centuries have I wasted on you mortals trying to put one together? And after all my work, in the end, you can't even complete the simplest tasks I set for you..."

"Please."

"There is nothing I can do."

"You destroyed my life in ten seconds," he whispered. "You have powers. Help me. Give me a chance."

"I can't heal you." The Enchantress stood to her full height and backed away. "It pains me to see how you've changed, Prince. You do not deserve this fate now... But I have no power to heal. You humans, you're so frail! That handsome body you were always so proud of..." She broke off suddenly.

"What?"

The Enchantress stared off for a moment, obviously thinking something through. Finally she conceded, "Maybe there is something." The prince couldn't manage to ask questions. "You may prefer not to live at this price, but... while humans are weak..." She shrugged. "Beasts are not."

Two or three labored breaths later he still had not decided, and time was running out. "It would be... forever?"

She shook her head, laughing a little. "Good heavens, Prince, even as a punishment I would not change you _forever_! No - this would be only for as long as you needed." She glanced down at the puddle of gore surrounding her. "Weeks? Months, perhaps? I don't know."

He nodded. She brought her hands together, muttered a few words, and opened them to reveal a small red pouch. "Then bid farewell to that pretty face of yours, Prince. Eat these when you are ready to change back. I warn you they taste awful."

The prince nodded again. "Thank you." They were the last words he spoke in a human voice for many weeks.

She touched him with her wand and cast the spell.

* * *

TBC. 

The next chapter, longer than this one, is finished and ready to post. It will probably be up Friday. Let me know what you think so far...


	3. Chapter 3

Lefou met the newlyweds in the street and congratulated Gaston so thoroughly that by the time they reached his house, he seemed to have completely forgotten that his wife wanted to kill him. He jumped down off his horse and snatched Belle from the saddle and threw her over his shoulder.

"Let _go_," she shouted, banging against his back as hard as she could. "Put me down! Gaston, what are you doing?"

"Why, I'm carrying my new wife over the threshold," he answered grandly. "I'm told that's the way one brings home a new wife. Isn't that right, Lefou?"

She couldn't hear even a touch of sarcasm in his voice, and it confused her so badly she went limp. How could he act like nothing was wrong? How could he _believe _nothing was wrong?

He kicked open the door and marched through the living room, then kicked open the bedroom door and set her down on her feet inside. "And here we are! Home sweet home." He gestured around proudly, then frowned as his eyes fell on the bed. It was wide enough for two people though just barely, and there was a dog curled up across the foot.

Gaston stepped up and shooed the dog off, then nodded at the place where it had been. "All set."

"All set?" Belle repeated in disbelief. "Gaston, you're expecting me to sleep in your bed - in the dog's place?"

He took her by the shoulders and planted a kiss on her forehead. "That's what I love about you, Belle - you might play hard-to-get at first, but in the end you're so _very _accomodating." He didn't seem to be joking. She couldn't do more than stare as he kept right on: "_Yes, _you may have Rameau's place. I know, I know, he's served me since he was a puppy, and I'm as concerned for his welfare as you are, but I suppose, in the end, as my wife the spot should go to you. Rameau can sleep on the floor by the fire."

"You might as well give him back his bed," Belle said coldly. "I'm going to stay up and read." She turned her back on him, left, and closed the bedroom door firmly behind her.

She hesitated outside the door, wondering if he would get angry and come after her, but within a few seconds she heard him start to snore.

So she pulled a chair up to the fireplace and, as she had nothing to read, just poked morosely at the coals.

* * *

Belle didn't even realize it was morning until a knock at the door startled her out of her thoughts. She blinked into the fire and then looked at the window. Broad daylight. Gaston was going to kill her for using up all that firewood for no good reason... 

She stood, wincing as her neck cracked twice, and went to open the door.

Before she got there, though, the _back _door banged open and someone strode through the kitchen and came to greet her. "Morning, wife!" Gaston said with enthusiasm.

Her manners kicked in and she answered "Good morning, Gaston," before she thought better of it. "Someone's at the door."

"Don't worry, I'll get it." He shrugged his massive shoulders and dropped the bundle of logs that was tied to his back. The whole house shook.

She hovered behind him as he opened the front door, but could see nothing because Gaston filled the entire doorway. It made her think of the Beast, and she found herself fighting tears.

Gaston stood aside. "It's for you, Belle," he told her, a little stiffly.

Belle gasped. "Father!"

"Belle!" He took both of her hands and started babbling. "I don't- I'm so glad to- I heard the, the most, the most terrible things! Are you all right?"

She swallowed. "Yes, Papa, I'm-... fine."

"But what are you doing _here_?"

"Gaston... um... we got married."

"You got..." Maurice stared blankly. "But I thought... oh! It's not because he... now sweetheart, just because he saved you from that Beast, that's wonderful of course, but it doesn't mean you're, you know, obligated to-"

"Gaston didn't force me, Papa," she lied, not wanting to grieve him since there was really nothing he could do about it at this point anyway. "It was... I thought it best."

"Why, Belle, that's wonderful! As long as you're sure," he added, lowering his voice, "That he's the right man... I mean, you did tell me once that you didn't think so."

"He..." A bitter smile touched his lips. "He swept me right off my feet, Papa. Someday perhaps you'll understand."

Maurice chuckled and stood on tiptoe to pinch her cheek. "And til then, I suppose I'm to leave the newlyweds alone. But you'll come find me when you're settled in, Belle, won't you? I'd love to have you and my new son-in-law over for dinner."

Belle forced a smile and gave him a kiss goodbye. She was trying not to think of what "dinner" might taste like now that Maurice was cooking for himself... it would almost be funny, if not for the serious question of how on earth she thought her father was going to manage on his own.

She turned inside, all ready to have it out with Gaston regarding exactly how the men in her life were to be prioritized - her husband being, of course, at the bottom of the list - but when she saw him she was distracted from all other speech.

Gaston was sitting on the floor tearing logs into firewood with his bare hands.

She rubbed her neck uncomfortably. "Um... Gaston, about the fire..."

He waved her to silence. "I didn't realize you like it so warm, but of course all the household-running will be up to you from now on. I went and cut a little more wood, so we don't run out so fast next time..."

The room was sweltering, she realized all of a sudden. She and Gaston both had sweat streaming down their faces. If she had not been totally absorbed in thoughts about her dear dead Beast she might have stopped feeding the blasted flames hours ago, but right now there was nothing much she could do about it.

"There," he said at last, throwing the last chunks of wood into the pile in the corner. "That's better."

He had worked so hard and sounded so satisfied that she almost kept her thoughts to herself... but then she saw his bow on the floor and remembered the terrace, and jumped at a chance to wipe the smile off his face. "This is not _better, _Gaston," she snapped, "I still hate you. I wouldn't even _be _here except that you threatened my father, and as soon as I can get rid of you without putting him in danger, I'm leaving."

He blinked, frowned in confusion, opened his mouth. It took him a bit to form words. "But Belle... don't you remember? We're _married._"

Belle's turn to gape. As of last night Gaston had realized that he'd have to use Maurice as leverage to win her hand... and now this morning he was acting as if she had married him by choice! Had he turned stupid overnight? Or did he think - and her stomach churned at the thought - could he possibly think that being married meant he'd won? That once she was bound to him she was bound to love him?

She _had _sworn that, after all. But it was ridiculous for him to think she meant it! Wasn't it? 

"Gaston," she said carefully, "You do know, don't you, that I didn't _want _to get married?"

"Oh, but you're getting over all that," he dismissed, "Just like I knew you would. I heard what you said to your father. Glad to see you're coming around."

"No! I meant what I said: I don't love you."

This, strangely enough, didn't seem to disturb him. He shrugged. "Tell you what, Belle: as long as you behave like you're supposed to, I can let that pass."

"Be_have_?" She shrieked, outraged. How dare he treat her like some kind of dog or child! "How's this for _behave_!" The front door was still open and she kicked it shut with all her strength, so hard that Gaston's old dog whimpered from the other room. "I _told _you I-"

"Enough!" He stormed over and she shrank back against the wall, suddenly afraid. "Now, I've decided to be a good husband to you, Belle," he growled into her face, "Which means teaching you how to behave like a good wife. I would hate to have to spend the first day of our honeymoon putting you over my knee, but if that's what it takes for you to learn your place, then-"

She shoved at him, hissing "Place_?!" _but of course she couldn't move him.

He sighed, rolled his eyes, curled his lip. "I've had enough _wife _for one day," he declared suddenly. "I'm going hunting. You go sit down and stay quiet. By the time I get home-"

"Stop telling me what to do!"

Gaston leaned forward until their faces were an inch apart. "Sit. Down."

He took his gun off the couch and thundered out of the house. Once he was gone, Belle felt lightheaded and really did want to sit down.

She found she had to hop over to the chair, though, because of how hard she had kicked his door. She cried, and the dog came to comfort her, and she very nearly kicked the dog as well.

"This," she said aloud, some time later, "Is not how my marriage was supposed to begin. What happened to _happily ever after, _Rameau?"

The dog whimpered mournfully but didn't offer her any useful answers.

* * *

TBC.

The more I watch this movie the more I feel bad for Gaston. The poor guy is really just a giant meathead who's never been taught how to play well with others. I think there's hope for him. Unlike the Beast, who had "no love in his heart," at least Gaston is only an evil bastard when there's something in it for him.

Let me know what you think so far!!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: My my, we have a lot of Gaston-haters here! Don't worry - I promise Belle will take some action next chapter. Although I can't promise you Gaston will die... I actually kind of like him. His plans are so purile I was probably a better plotter than him by the time I was six years old, and in general I figure he'd score about as low as Dr. Evil on a villain-competency exam. Not that that excuses evil intentions of course - he's still a villain - but it makes him an _endearing _villain. At least to me.

And I do think there's hope for him to reform, at least a little. He's conceited and brutish, but really not _that _bad a guy.

* * *

Several hours later, Gaston crashed through the door even more loudly than he had in the morning. "Belle? Let's go." 

"Go where?"

"Your father invited us to dinner." Using Maurice to cheer her up was an idea that had come from Lefou of all places, but Gaston was sure it was the right move. "It'll be nice. Besides, don't you need to stop by your house and get some fresh clothes?"

She rolled her eyes at the look he swept over her battered dress, then brightened a little. "I can get the book I'm in the middle of!"

Gaston looked alarmed. "Book?" he repeated. "Oh, no. No wife of mine is going to sit around _reading._"

"Gaston, what do you care if I-"

"No reading! I have a feeling that's where all those strange _ideas _come from," he muttered, mostly to himself. "So, if there's no books, there'll be no strangeness."

"But it's not-"

"No books!"

Belle crossed her arms and sat down on the couch. "_Onceuponatimeinafarawaykingdomtherewasaverylonelyyoungprincess theyoungestofthreedaughtersofavery great king,_" she recited, then paused for breath. Gaston just stared. "_Whilehersisterswereinlovewithsilverandgold andallthatsparkled theyoungestdaughter sometimescalledRose caredonlyforthebeautifulflowers intheroyalgard-_"

"Stop that!"

"I want my books," Belle declared, "And if you won't let me get them then I'll just repeat the ones I know, over and over and over again, for the entire time I have to live in this, this... this _cave _of yours."

Gaston looked around at his bare walls and wondered what she meant by calling his house a cave. He had a fireplace. He had some furniture. He supposed most people didn't keep weapons and firewood piled up in the corners the way he did, but he liked to have everything he needed close at hand.

Maybe she was complaining about the chunk of burning wood he kept on the wall? But torches were so much more _effective _than a puny little candle, and if it made a bit of smoke, well, that's what windows were for.

He shrugged. Who knew what went on in the mind of a woman, and more importantly, who cared?

"Dinner, Belle."

She crossed her arms even tighter and looked away. "I'm not hungry."

"All right - I guess I'll be eating with Maurice alone."

Belle reached out and snagged his tunic as he made to brush by her. "No - I'll go. I won't make my father sit with _you _all night."

He pinched out the torch with his bare hand, growled, "Oh, Belle, you say the sweetest things," and then strode out of the house, taking such big steps that she had to run to keep up with him.

* * *

Lumiere and Mrs. Potts - human, and still getting used to it - were on duty, sitting in a makeshift tent on the terrace and trying to coax the Beast to open his eyes. 

"We really should get you indoors, dear," Mrs. Potts said gently. "You should be inside where it's warm."

He just stirred weakly. "Belle? Where's Belle?"

Lumiere just gestured nervously, so Mrs. Potts explained: "She's gone away until you're better. Now, you just-"

"What's wrong with me?" He managed at last to roll onto his side and pull his cape tighter around him.

Again Mrs. Potts stepped up to deliver the bad news. "You, er... you've been stabbed, master. Now hold still, if you please - I have to get at the wound."

She reached towards him but he shook her off. "No - where's Belle, she's been taken away! I must go to her..." He dragged himself to his knees.

Mrs. Potts would have protested, but Lumiere nudged her and glanced to the puddle of dark tacky blood that the Beast had been lying in for two days. "It would do him some good to get inside, I think."

"Maybe it would, but he shouldn't be trying to move on his own," she argued firmly. "Now, master, just hold still, let me-"

"NO! Leave me alone - I want _BELLE!_" he roared. "_Where is she_?"

Lumiere edged away, but Mrs. Potts reached for him one more time.

He bellowed and lashed out with his paw, catching her on the face and shoulder. The force of the blow spun her straight around into Lumiere's arms. They all stood frozen for a moment, equally shocked.

Lumiere broke the silence first - there was something warm and wet seeping through his shirt. "Sacre bleu," he gasped when he looked down at her. The Beast's claws had scored her to the bone.

The Beast looked sad and utterly confused. "I didn't..." He dropped back to the ground. "Leave me. Just let me die here... outside... where I belong."

Mrs. Potts sighed and used her apron to sop up the blood streaming from her jaw and shoulder. "Lumiere," she instructed quietly, "Go into town and find the poor girl. Let her know that he is alive and that he'll come for her... _when he can,_" she finished, turning to the Beast. "Which, I'm sorry, is not today. Master, you can't even stand up on your own. Now please be reasonable - just hold still..."

The Beast watched blood drip down her arm into his already blood-matted fur, and felt an unfamiliar, unpleasant twist in his stomach. He recognized it from when Belle had talked about missing her father, but now, unlike then, there was nothing he could do to help. He racked his woozy brains for what to do when you've hurt someone you wish you hadn't, and finally remembered: "I'm sorry."

He was looking away, and so missed her expression of surprise. She settled down on the floor beside him and tried to get him to eat. "You're going to get well for sure," she told him. "It seems like a hard road ahead I know, but after how far you've come... it'll be a walk in the park."

He would have liked to answer her, but the world was greying out again and he collapsed right into his porridge.

* * *

TBC. 

Yes, Mrs. Potts is incredibly forgiving... on the other hand, she's already lived a large chunk of her life as a teapot just because the Prince couldn't behave like a gentleman for one evening. At this point she must be an expert at not holding grudges.

Thanks so much to all who have left me comments so far!


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: regarding longer chapters... I can definitely do them longer from now on, but then it will be a little longer between updates.

* * *

When the doorbell rang, all three of them looked up from their cooking. 

"I'll get it," Belle offered first.

"No!" Gaston said quickly. "Let your father do it."

After one look at the dark, smoking sludge Maurice was stirring on the stove, Belle had to agree with him. "Gaston's right, Papa, go on. We'll finish up in here." As soon as her father had gone, they both lunged for the stove.

"Hurry, we have to get rid of it!" Gaston whispered.

"Where?" she whispered back. Saving herself from Maurice's cooking took priority over hating her husband, at least for the moment.

"I don't know. Throw it out the window."

"No - we did that yesterday, and it killed all the flowers!" They were both looking around frantically for another hiding place. "Oh! Can you get Rameau to eat it?"

"Belle, he's not stupid. Aha - here, we'll disguise it as mop-water!" Gaston put the pot on the floor and rested the mop in it.

Once that threat to their health was handled, things returned to their unpleasant norm. Belle chopped vegetables and glared, Gaston gutted fish and grumbled complaints. "I've lived my whole life without doing _women's work,_" he growled. "Why is that now that I'm married and I have a woman to do it _for _me, _now _I end up slaving away in the kitchen like a, a fishwife!" He lopped off the fish's head and shot off a glare at least as powerful as Belle's.

"Gaston, it's been _three days_, don't sound like you've been working in here forever!" she snapped back. "And I _told _you, if you don't like cooking, you're welcome to not participate!"

"No thank you! I've learned my lesson: from now on I'll be eating not just in the same house, but probably off the same _plate _as your father. And I'm watching every speck you put into that pot. One serving of poisonous mushrooms was more than enough."

"It was an _accident_!" Belle jammed her knife point-first into the countertop and crossed her arms. "I told you, I didn't know anything was wrong with them!"

"Right! And that's why you wouldn't even take a single bite for yourself!"

"Well maybe I don't like mushrooms." But she couldn't make eye contact.

Gaston didn't even bother to point out that she was dicing up mushrooms right now - _normal _mushrooms, _healthy _ones he had picked out himself - and adding them to the dinner she had every intention of eating. He was too busy ranting: "You cooked up enough of that poison to kill a horse! A moose! A whale, even! But not me." He threw his chest out, sounding less and less upset as he continued: "I admit, I might have felt a little queasy-"

"...You were throwing up all night..." she muttered, but he continued right over her.

"-might have felt that somewhere inside my... perfect machine..."

"-Sweating bullets even in an icewater bath..."

"...the gears might be squeaking just a little..."

"-Shivering til you broke the bed..."

"... But in the end, of course it couldn't do me harm. It takes more than a little poison to break _this_."

Belle watched him flex proudly all around the kitchen and hated him more than ever. It was one thing to have had to spend the night terrified on the porch, trapped between the slavering beasts of the forest and the vomiting beast in the living room... that she could live with. She even supposed, maybe, that she deserved it. But this? This was intolerable - he was _happy_. As if he didn't even mind when people tried to kill him.

_Well, good, _she snarled to herself, _he'd better get used to it_.

* * *

Maurice heard none of this - he was paying far too much attention to the man on his doorstep. 

It was a tall, smiling man in a rich-looking uniform. "Can I help you?" Maurice asked politely.

"I have brought good news. For Belle."

"Err... what news?"

"She is about to be..." the man leaned close and purred into Maurice's ear: "Rescued!"

The voice was familiar, but not quite familiar enough to place. Maurice smiled and patted the man on the arm. "Oh, I thank you most kindly, but it's not necessary - Belle's already been rescued."

"She- she's what?"

"Rescued. Already." Maurice beamed. "After that fearsome beast took her away into his castle, Gaston went... you know, Gaston the dashing young hunter from town... he went and, and he slew the beast! And plucked Belle right from its jaws!"

"Ahem. Yes, well, believe it or not I already knew that. What I meant to say was-"

"And they're married already!"

"-Was that in fact the-" After a huge double-take, the visitor swallowed hard a few times. "Er-? Pardon me... you didn't say she is _married_...?"

Nodding, smiling, Maurice prattled on: "Yes, they married straightaway! And I thought, that's a little fast, I thought, but... you know young love..."

"Married already?"

"Yes!"

"Married? _Mais non_! It cannot be, she wouldn't-"

"Yes! And they're so wonderful together, they come visit me every day!"

There was a long pause. Maurice waited to be congratulated. "She married him," the man repeated at last, sounding dazed. With no further farewell than that, he turned and hurried down the steps, muttering to himself.

Maurice gave him one more strange look as he left, then shook his head and went inside. "Some people," he muttered to himself, "Are so _odd_..."

As he watched the happy couple playing Footsie all throughout dinner (Belle was attempting to kick through her husband's shins and he was attempting to stomp on her toes in answer) his heart was so warmed that he completely forgot to mention the bizarre visitor.

* * *

TBC. Ok, so I didn't get to the part where Belle and Gaston really have it out, but don't worry - they're about to. 

I really appreciate the comments. I agree with charlemagnebrat1, it would be cheesy for the Beast to just show up and snatch Belle right back. So if you're holding your breath for it to happen that way, make sure you have somebody CPR-certified on hand because you're going to need them.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Ok, ok, this is kind of short again, sorry! But it's done, and I wanted to put it up.

* * *

"So," Lefou said cheerfully the next morning, "How are things with the wife? It doesn't look like she poisoned you again..." 

Gaston shot him a dirty look. "She still says that was an accident. I know she's lying, though - I can smell it."

"It's better to just tell people your wife can't cook," Lefou pointed out. "Because if the guys find out she tricked you into eating poisonous mushrooms, someone's gonna laugh at you, and then we'll have to wait while you pound him, and your shirt will probably get torn again and then we'll have to go to the tailor's and wait on line _there_, and then-"

Gaston shut him up by dumping a huge sack into his arms. "Carry this."

"Sure." But now that he couldn't see, Lefou walked into a tree almost immediately.

Gaston sighed and took the sack back. "Oh, and by the way," he remembered, "Belle wants to invite you to dinner with us tonight."

"Dinner at the crazy inventor's?" Lefou brightened up - he didn't get many invitations.

Gaston nodded. "She says as long as I'm bringing one of my dogs, I might as well bring the other."

Lefou frowned, trying to remember when Gaston had acquired another dog besides Rameau, but eventually gave up and just asked, "So you think she's warming up to you?"

"She will," Gaston promised ominously.

Missing all the danger signs as usual, Lefou pressed ahead with what he was saying. "If it's still going a little slow, maybe you could try talking to her," he suggested.

"Lefou, we've been through this." Gaston explained it one more time, more because he wanted to convince himself than because he really thought Lefou had forgotten. "Girls are just like horses - they have to run wild a bit to get it out of their system, and then you show them a firm hand and they fall right into line."

"Er... if you say so." Lefou shrugged and tried not to look at Gaston's black eye or the great chunks of hair he was missing. "But I'm not sure I see Belle falling into line no matter what you do."

Gaston stopped dead in his tracks. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean, I'm sure you'll get the hang of her _eventually, _but right now-"

"You think I can't control my wife? I'll show you." Gaston threw his bundle on the ground and picked up Lefou instead. "Let's go back, and I'll show you right now that Belle will fall in line just like everybody else. Or else."

Lefou didn't ask _or else what?_, but he was wondering.

* * *

Belle was perched on the front stoop reading when Gaston returned - a mere few minutes after she'd finally shooed him out of the house. Her nose wrinkled. Lefou was with him, she could hear their chatter as they came round the bend... 

"-No - I believe you," Lefou was insisting. "Gaston, really, there's no need to go and do anything _rash_ to her-"

"Rash?" he thundered. "Listen..."

But Belle had heard enough. She jumped up and ran into the house, thinking, _I knew that midnight haircut was a bad idea_. She locked the front door and thought about trying to hide. Before she could, though, the back door burst open and Gaston stomped in. "Morning, wife!"

"Stay away from me!" she cried, frightened and not really thinking. When he came a little closer, panic took over completely and she picked up the nearest object - her book - and threw it at him.

He batted it calmly out of the air and it nailed his friend in the head. "You see that, Lefou?" he demanded. "That's what happens when you try to _talk _to them. That's why my way is better."

"Your way?" she gasped. Belle backed away and fled into the bedroom. _I KNEW it would come to this, _she told herself, feeling almost triumphant. _Now we see who's really a monster!_ She leaned against the door, eyes closed, waiting for him to just plow through it...

* * *

But Gaston had other plans. He stood licking the blood from a nasty papercut and muttered, "I told you books were dangerous." 

"You gonna break down the door?"

Gaston could hear his wife crying on the other side, but she was a crafty little thing and he would take no chances. You never charged blindly into a creature's lair without a plan...

He whispered instructions in Lefou's ear, then cracked his neck and arranged himself next to the door. Once he was in position, Lefou said as loudly as he could: "You're right, Gaston - she really _is _crazy! And she probably gets it from her father! After all, Maurice is-"

The door opened. "My father is _not- _Aaaah!"

Gaston pounced on her and tackled her to the ground.

"Get off, let go, let _go_ of me!" she yelled as he lifted her easily with one hand and held her up in the air. "What are you doing?!"

"Putting you in the kitchen!" He dumped her on the ground there and stood over her. "Where you will stay until you've cooked me my dinner! Properly! I'm tired of indulging you, Belle, and you're going to start behaving! You're going to start behaving _now_! Do you hear me?"

She got to her feet and yelled, "Of course I hear you - you're shouting in my face!"

He picked up a chair and broke it into several pieces to get his temper out. When his head felt less like exploding, he pointed to the pot of water he had so generously drawn and carried for her today and just said: "Cook."

"_You_ cook!"

"All right: I'll cook." He went and snatched up the book she'd thrown at him and said: "This looks tasty." Before she could stop him, he dropped it in the pot.

Belle leaped past him and snatched it out, but of course it was already ruined. She hugged it to her chest and sank down to the floor in tears.

After a good long cry, she pulled herself together and looked around. Gaston and Lefou had gone.

First, she tried to open her book again, but the soggy page tore. The ink was smudged beyond all hope anyway. Her _book_! Her favorite book! No!

She threw it across the room, howled with rage the way she'd seen the Beast do, and afterwards felt much better and much more dangerous.

"He wants me to cook?" she hissed aloud. "I'll show him _cook_..."

* * *

TBC. 

Heh heh heh...

Next chapter, Belle and Gaston redecorate - in a manner of speaking. And then they make some changes in their relationship. And we'll see some Beast, too.


	7. Chapter 7

"Where is she?" the Beast rasped for at least the tenth time this morning. He struggled to sit up in his bath, but Mrs. Potts pushed him back down. He was lucid enough now not to attack her.

"No, you stay in the warm," she ordered. "Tip your head back... there's a dear." The Beast shivered even under the cascade of hot water she poured on him, and she gestured for servants to bring even hotter water to freshen up the tub with.

"What did she say? He's back, I heard him downstairs... what message did she send for me?"

"Lumiere told her you're all right," Mrs. Potts said firmly, "And he says she's very excited to see you again. But as you can't go to her until you're better, in the meantime, just let's try and get warm, and then eat something, shall we?"

"Fine." He hardly cared - it was not food that was sustaining him, it was the thought of his beloved. But if food was the fastest way to getting better and thus getting to _her, _then food it would be. He thought soon he might be strong enought to walk around... and that was good, because he had to go to her soon. It was anyone's guess how she was managing to keep the idiot peasants and that lunatic hunter at bay... and if something happened to her while he was stuck here holed up in the castle like... well, like a Beast gone to ground, then there really wouldn't be anything much worth living for at all, would there?

* * *

The pot on the stove had a boot, two arrows, an antler, and some wood sticking out of it, and Belle wasn't done yet. On the off chance that Gaston would actually take a bite just to prove a point, she'd added some more of the bad mushrooms and plenty of pepper. 

While she was chasing Rameau around the kitchen to get some of his fur for seasoning purposes, she heard the door creak open. It was Lefou. "Belle? What are you...um..."

"I'm cooking! And I expect Gaston to eat every single bite!"

"Oh... gee, what did you… you didn't put his gun in there, did you? It's the one thing he'd probably get _really _mad about…"

"No, but I put a whole lot of his powder and bullets into the oven. That'll teach him to-"

"What? You _what_?" Lefou jumped off the stool and skittered around to hide behind her. "You can't put powder and bullets in the _oven_!"

"Why not?"

At that moment, soft whizzing and popping began to issue forth from the oven. Lefou screamed "Duck - it's gonna blow!" and they both hit the ground…

* * *

After the explosions had stopped, they sat up and looked around at the mess that had been a kitchen. Part of the wall was blown away and a few birds were poking their heads in from the outside, chirping. 

Belle retied her hair. "Good! Now there _is _no kitchen - let's see him tell me to stay in the kitchen now!" She sighed, realizing that she was yelling at an innocent bystander, and lowered her voice. "I'm sorry, Lefou – it's not your fault. But I just won't live doing everything his way."

He nodded. "You want to do things _your _way."

"That's right."

"Well, no offense, Belle, but if _this _is your way, I like Gaston's way better."

Belle opened her mouth and then, finding nothing to say, closed it again. _Was _this her way? This? Destroying things, shouting herself hoarse, focusing all her energy on inventing nasty things to say and do... Was that really how she wanted to be?

She had always wanted to be like her father, able to solve any problem from the smallest to the most impossibly complicated… but now here she was instead, _making _problems, making them bigger and more unbearable every day.

Something had to change. "Lefou," she said quietly, "Would you go and fetch Gaston for me?"

He went and she, as an apology for the kitchen, started working on the mountain of laundry she'd been letting pile up.

* * *

She met Gaston in the living room as soon as he came in. "I did it, I'm sorry and I'm not going to do it again," she said right away. "Please forgive me. I want to talk." 

"You want to talk," he repeated after a moment. "Well, I want to eat."

She shook her head. "Most of the food's buried under the wall that caved in… but if you can lift it up, I'll dig everything out."

Although he started griping at once about coming home to a mountain of chores, he was more than happy to show off for her, heaving up the rubble and piling it back into a fair approximation of a wall while she organized what was left of the food supply. "Thank you," she said, and chanced a look at him. He was still glaring a little and it was making her nervous, so she started throwing ingredients together to distract herself.

"So," he said at last into the silence. "You're sorry."

"Yes."

"And you're finally going to start being the beautiful, loving wife I deserve."

"No! Listen, I'm _never _going to have feelings for you, Gaston," Belle said firmly. "Never."

"It's a phase," he assured with a dismissive wave. "You're just not ready yet. Girls your age-"

"No!" Her carrot-chopping became a little more enthusiastic, and her resolve to make friends started weakening. "I _am _ready, I _was _ready, I already _had _my true love! And you murdered him, you _killed _the one I'm supposed to be with!"

"You're talking about a _wild animal _who kidnapped you!" He fed a piece of meat to the dog, and the resulting slobbery spectacle gave him an idea. "We're just lucky I got there when I did, or we'd have found your skin hanging next to-"

"Stop it - I told you that's not how it was. We loved each other!"

Girls! Even _if _that was true – and Gaston sincerely hoped not; it was a disgusting thought – even _if _it was true, it was hardly the point! Why couldn't girls ever understand what really mattered? "Well, I love Rameau," he said. "But do you think I've ever thought of marrying _him_? Do you?" She wouldn't answer. "No. Why? Because people marry _people._ More importantly, good-looking people marry good-looking people... which brings us to you, and me." He snatched a piece of the carrot Belle was cutting and popped it into his mouth. "Right?"

"Well... that's what I wanted to talk about." He wasn't really looking at her, but she pressed ahead anyway. "We can't live like this. I'll never forgive you for what you've done, and you obviously can't ever respect me, but as long as we're married we have to find a way of living together in peace. Do you agree?"

"Mm-hmm, yes exactly," he said absently, stooping to scratch the dog's ears.

She blinked. "Gaston, were you even listening to me? I'm trying to tell you something!"

"Of _course _you are, Belle." Wanting to calm her, he spoke in his lowest, rumbliest purr, the one that always had the girls swooning all over him.

But Belle was unimpressed. "Stop it," she snapped.

He looked up, frowning, clearly not understanding.

"I know that's how you talk to most girls," she clarified, "But I don't like it. I want you to talk to me like... um..." she tried, and failed, to think of when she had ever heard Gaston be polite in his life. _He doesn't respect anybody but himself, _she thought bitterly... and that gave her an idea. "I want you to pretend you're talking to _you_," she explained. "To another Gaston. Take the things I say seriously, the way you would if _you _had thought of them yourself. It's important to me. Do you think you can do that?"

"Of course I _can_." The emphasis he put on the word made her smile. All you had to do was challenge Gaston, tell him he was incapable, and he would bend over backwards to prove you wrong. It was a useful thing to remember. "But what's the point?"

"The point," she explained patiently, "Is that being married means we're supposed to treat each other as well as we treat ourselves. And you would never ignore _yourself _the way you ignore me."

His eyes narrowed. "And _you _would never feed yourself _that_." He pointed to the smoking remains of the boot/antler/wood soup she had created.

Belle looked at it and flushed. "Well I..." she swallowed. "Well that was different," she argued, then realized that it wasn't different at all. She lowered her eyes. "You're right, I'm sorry," she said at last.

He beamed - _now _she was behaving! "That's all right," he said generously. "Now go set the table!" he pointed towards the table with the same motion he used to order Rameau outside, then frowned. Perhaps this was the sort of thing she was talking about... if it were _him _standing there in her place, he'd punch a man who used that gesture.

Talking to her like another Gaston might be a little more difficult than he had first thought… but he was sure he could figure it out. He lowered his arm. "Please."

She smiled up at him and fetched the silverware without any further fuss.

Gaston kicked off his boots and wondered whether her newfound agreeableness would extend so far as to finally massaging his feet by the fire.

* * *

TBC.

Ok, ok, I lied - the Beast didn't get the bad news this chapter, he gets it next one.

Next chapter will have plenty of action - raging beasts, a hunt, the whole works. I'll probly put it up tomorrow or Wednesday.


	8. Chapter 8

"Wakey wakey, Belle! Rise and shine."

"Mmmrr?" Belle opened her eyes and for a moment wondered where she was... ah, yes. The couch in Gaston's living room. Gaston. Husband. Right.

She rolled over and tried to cover her face - it was far too early. The birds were only just starting to chirp, and the sun hadn't even risen.

"Belle." He shook her and poked her in the side until she sat up.

"What?" she snapped.

"Get up - we're going hunting."

"_Hunting_?"

He nodded. "Remember how you said I should treat you the way I treat myself? Well, I'm going hunting this morning, and if I were you, I'd want to come with me. So, you're coming. Get dressed."

Belle rubbed her eyes and looked again, to make sure she wasn't dreaming the whole thing. No, Gaston was really there... and appeared to be serious.

Go _hunting_? With _him_? Eugh! On the other hand, she'd told herself to try and make friends...

Of course, it was also possible that Gaston was just trying to spoil her morning. More than possible: likely.

Two could play at that game, all right. Belle stretched her arms above her head and yawned. "Fine - I'm coming. Can I hold the gun?"

* * *

Having beheaded plenty of chickens in her day, Belle didn't think it would bother her to watch her husband on his hunting expedition. She was annoyed at not being allowed to carry the gun, annoyed that Gaston wouldn't let her walk behind him just in case she somehow got hold of it anyhow, and annoyed that Lefou talked her ear off the entire time because he judged her less likely than Gaston to bonk him after every few sentences. 

They eventually found a flock of huge birds and Gaston picked them off with arrows, looking almost bored. "There - that's dinner." He loaded Lefou up with as much as he could carry and then sent him home, leaving himself and Belle alone for a romantic stroll through the forest.

Belle might have found it more romantic if her husband hadn't kept stopping to smell trees and poke at piles of animal poop, but at least he was talking _to_ her rather than _at _her for the moment.

"What's that one?" she asked, pointing at some tracks.

"Deer," he answered at once. "Again."

"There are an awful lot of deer left around here," Belle observed, "Considering how you and your friends are always killing them."

He didn't seem to hear that she was taking a bit of a shot at him. "Mmm, I know," he agreed. "I suppose it's because I made carpets out of all the wolves that used to hunt here."

Belle shuddered and walked a little closer to him. "There are still wolves in these woods," she said quietly, trying not to let herself think of their red eyes, their growling...

"Not around town, there aren't," Gaston said grimly. "You can take my word for that." He reached up to rub his left shoulder, a gesture that looked a little odd on him because it seemed to suggest that he was _thinking _about something...

"What's wrong?"

"Hmm? Nothing. Nothing." He put his hand down quickly and his face darkened. "They're dead now - they're all dead."

She could see he'd had a bit of trouble with those wolves and now was trying to hide it from her - a ridiculous strategy, in her opinion, since she knew her heart would probably melt a little in response to a story of injury and misery... but as she didn't want her heart to be melting for him _at all_, it was probably better this way.

"Good," she said firmly, taking his arm. "Wolves scare me."

They walked in silence for a little, Gaston certain that his wolf-killing manliness was finally starting to win Belle over... and Belle pitying him for his complete failure to understand her.

Eventually, there was a rough spot and Belle tripped. She crashed to the ground, falling and cracking a dead branch loudly underneath her.

In the distance, bushes rustled as something heard the noise and took off.

Gaston had already started to help his wife back to her feet, but the sight of an animal fleeing took his attention away immediately. He dropped Belle right back on the ground and raced off in pursuit.

She got up on her own and followed. "Gaston- wait-" she called, knowing she had no prayer of keeping up with him as he threaded his way through the forest. Eventually, though, he paused to listen for clues and she caught up.

"Shh," he said. She listened as hard as she could but could only make out faint rustling sounds that could be coming from anywhere. Gaston cocked his head, looked at the bushes around them, and decided on a direction. "Come on - hurry." He took Belle by the hand and dragged her along, yanking her under branches or just tossing her right over if that was faster.

"It's heading for the river, whatever it is," he explained in almost a whisper. "We're almost there..."

He pulled up short in a cluster of thick bushes so suddenly that Belle slammed into him from behind. He didn't even seem to notice. He signalled over his shoulder for her to be quiet, then moved some branches out of the way so he could get a peek.

It was a doe, the most beautiful one Belle had ever seen, tall and spotted and with dark inky eyes...

Belle stood transfixed with delight... until she remembered why exactly they had been chasing it.

She looked to Gaston. He had silently taken off his gun and dropped to one knee. She wanted to call out to the deer to run, but she had frozen up and already Gaston's gun was raised to his shoulder, one eye squinted closed...

"_Bang,_" he said softly. "Got her." He looked back and Belle and threw her a huge smile. "A clean headshot. Perfect - as usual." He stood up, careless of the noise he was making now, and the deer heard them and turned tail.

Belle watched it go, and let out the breath she didn't even realize she'd been holding. "You didn't kill it."

He shrugged and slung his gun back over his shoulder. "Why would I - we didn't need it. And there's no trophies to be had hunting those. Now, if we'd found a moose maybe... _that_, I would go after. _That_ is what almost killed Martin last December when he and Lefou and I went-..."

Busy thinking, she tuned out his bragging without much trouble. He hadn't killed it... he'd kill for food or for glory, but he didn't kill for fun...

_One less thing to hate him for, _she told herself, and was surprised to discover that the idea brought her a mess of confusing mixed feelings. 

Gaston took her home and left her to cook the meat while he went to the tavern to drink and tell stories. Being alone in the stuffy kitchen helped her remember just how many things she _did _still have to hate him for, and it made her feel a little more comfortable.

* * *

The Beast woke up one morning on the left side of the bed, and decided that today was the day he would start walking around again. 

He had gone to sleep on the _right _side of the bed. That meant he had somehow migrated a whole three or four feet during the night... he had rolled three or four feet without being woken up by agony. That meant he was ready to start walking. Or close enough.

He sat up carefully, wincing at the pressure of the bandages over his rib cage. He would have to take this slowly... _very _slowly.

Fortunately Mrs. Potts was nowhere to be seen. He could hear her voice, in the hallway probably, giving a lecture. _She must have caught Lumiere with one of the maids again,_ he thought, smiling a little. Not that he could blame him; the maids were actually quite pretty now that they were no longer feather dusters.

The Beast swung one leg to the floor, then the other. It made him so dizzy he had to stop and rest his massive head in his hands.

He started to stand, then changed his mind. Who was he kidding? Beasts were not meant to walk on two legs, and now was not the time to put unnecessary strain on his poor body.

He slid down carefully to all fours and arched his back. It felt good to be on his feet again (even if he was on four feet rather than two.) He took a step.

Walking was putting unpleasant strain on his torso, and a stabbing pain suggested that they'd missed a bone fragment or two in their haste to clean and bind his wounds.

No matter. He would be well soon enough. If he could walk he could get to Belle, which meant he could assure himself that all was well and she was safe and happy and waiting for him. Then, it would just be a matter of time before he could turn human once again.

With these encouraging thoughts he finally reached the door of his bedroom. Mrs. Potts, he could hear, was directly outside, and he paused for just a moment to wonder what the fuss was about.

"You can't keep it a secret much longer. Soon he'll be walking, and the first place he'll want to go-"

"I know!" Lumiere hissed. "But forgive me if I value my life too much to give the bad news myself!"

"I, for one, do not volunteer either," came Cogsworth's reedy voice. "_I _have no intention of being made to look like a pirate... no offence intended, Mrs. Potts..."

"Oh, the two of you!" she scolded. "He was practically delirious - I don't think he'll do it again. Lumiere, as it's you who knows firsthand, you ought to be the one to tell-"

The Beast shouldered the door open. "Tell me what?" he rumbled.

There was a long silence. Lumiere and Cogsworth edged away, leaving Mrs. Potts standing on her own, just about eye level with the hulking, growling creature.

She swallowed and raised her chin. "The girl is married, sir. She and the hunter."

"Belle? Married?" he sounded only politely confused.

"I used your mirror... saw them walking arm in arm through the forest, sir. It's true. Belle has... gone. For good."

She was watching his face carefully, and saw the danger in time. Without taking her eyes off the Beast she said over her shoulder, quietly: "Lumiere, run."

He and Cogsworth grabbed her and dragged her with them down the hall, away, towards the tower with its thick doors and bars and locks.

The Beast's roar followed them, so loud that frames shook on the walls and several of the torches guttered out.

* * *

Off, get it _off_... pain. And blood. The Beast realized dimly that he'd cut himself in his rush to get the wrap off his chest, cut himself deep. He licked blood off his claws and that's what he wanted suddenly, blood, raw meat, something he could rip and tear. 

He roared down the corridor again, raged through destroying whatever he could get his paws on, until out of nowhere came:

Belle, that's who said that, _Belle_-

He managed to tell himself to leave the castle before losing his head completely again.

Down the stairs, out the door. Every leap cost a world of hurt but it didn't slow him down for a second - he wanted to hunt. He was slipping and sliding in his own blood, so dizzy he could barely stand straight on four legs let alone two, but that didn't matter either as he charged for the woods.

He was mindless and hungry and ready to kill something. He was on a rampage. He was a Beast.

* * *

TBC. 

So what do you think so far? Cmon, don't be shy! Talk to me, and I'll update as quick as I can...


	9. Chapter 9

**First, a briefish rant:**

My take on the Beast being a little dark: I don't think it's fair to give him a Get-Out-Of-Hell-Free card, instant redemption just because he's fallen in love. He still, even at the end, needs Belle's physical presence right there to bring out the best in him. He doesn't fight to protect the people he has a responsibility to - the castle creatures are being hurt and even though it's really just him the attackers want, he takes no steps to either give himself up or fight for his friends. Boo on him for that; he's supposed to be the prince but apparently without Belle he's missing some vital part of his spirit and can't do his job. And of course when they're fighting he seems to mean to finish Gaston at first... i think it's only when he sees Belle watching that he becomes tame.

We all know he loses his temper easily, and despite looking like such a toughie he doesn't deal well with physical pain. Watch the way he has to catch himself when she dresses the scratch on his forearm - it looks like his first instinct is to eat her.

I'm sure if they can calm him down and get him under the covers he'll want to speak to her gently and in person... but considering he's surrounded by freed human beings while he's still a gross animal, and he's seriously injured because he just got stabbed over a girl, and the only thing sustaining him is the desire to have her there with him again... and now he finds out that she's not coming back because she's _with the guy who put him through this_... I don't think he's progressed so far that he wouldn't go buckwild first.

Although it could be that I need to lighten up and stop judging everyone so harshly... (my inner Javert shakes his head sternly at this idea).

End of rant.

* * *

"Your idea didn't work," Gaston griped. "Belle had a _good _time in the forest. Now she'll _never _start just staying in the house. She actually wants to come along next time, too!" 

Lefou offered him a beer. Gaston emptied it over his head instead, and then snarled: "I said I was thirsty - get me a beer!"

Lefou shook himself dry like a dog and then fetched twobeers, so that this time Gaston would have one to drink _and_ one to torment him with. He was very proud of his foresight.

"I don't understand it either, Gaston," he sighed. "I guess Belle's just weird."

"Hey." Gaston drank down both beers at once and then boxed his friend's ears with the empty mugs. "That's my wife you're talking about."

"Sorry. But girls are supposed to be afraid of the woods! Why wasn't she?"

Gaston brightened a little. "Probably because she was with _me_."

"That's true. What can she be afraid of when you're there next to her?" It was working, Gaston was cheering up a little, but there had to be something else... "Hey - I know! Let's play cards!"

The drunks all cheered and one of them threw a deck of cards down on the table. "Oh, no, boys - not tonight," Gaston complained half-heartedly. He loved cards, and he loved them begging for it.

They chanted "_Cards, cards, cards..._" until Gaston took out his bow. He turned his back and waited until Lefou shouted: "Four of clubs!"

Gaston spun around, notching an arrow at the same time, and swept his eyes over all the drinkers. They were each holding a card up on top of their heads, and without missing a beat he put a shot straight through the four of clubs. The men cheered and drank and shouted _Again!_ and Gaston, sighing as if annoyed, turned his back and took out another arrow.

* * *

The pile of bones was now up to the Beast's shoulder. 

Of course, he spent all his time on all fours, so that was a little misleading. Had he been walking upright, the pile would be waist deep at best.

Also, he cheated a little. When he came upon a fox or wolf or bear that was eating something, he would kill it and then add both it _and _the remains of its prey to the pile. And any carcasses or bones he found in the forest went straight to the pile as well.

Still, cheating or not it was fairly impressive. Whenever a stray thought of Belle crossed his mind, the Beast found that scattering his bone heap and then charging off to add to it worked wonders to help him forget.

Sometimes it occured to him that maybe he wasn't doing so well - snow would melt in a wide circle around him whenever he sat, and he often had trouble keeping down what he ate... even when it wasn't rotten, which it frequently was.

One night, not quite a week into his hunting spree, the Beast prowled for four hours without running into a single living animal. This was because the wildlife of the forest had by now realized that the new stinking snarling creature among them had to be avoided, but the explanation produced by his malnourished, feverish brain was: _I killed everything_.

"I killed everything." He said it aloud, sat down on the ground, and looked at his muddy, blood-smeared paws. "Look at me - I'm a monster." Blood dripped down his face and stained the snow. (He didn't realize that this was mostly due to having charged through a thornbush earlier, and took it as further proof that he was a bloodthirsty savage.)

"This can't go on," he muttered to himself. It was time to go and get help. Normally thinking of Belle or Mrs. Potts sickened him, but now it was the thought of the bone pile that made him queasy. The idea of being coddled was actually appealing... although it also made him want to cry. "It's over."

He lurched off in the direction of the castle straightaway.

When he finally reached the big iron gates, though, he realized what he must look like and was suddenly too embarrassed to go inside. Instead, he pulled the tattered remains of his cloak around him and just curled up to sleep on the ground. The morning, he thought - he would sort everything out in the morning.

The Beast had forgotten to worry that wild animals would come and maul him while he slept, but it turned out not to matter - after their week-long battle royale, the wolves had finally conceded the territory to him and had gone away.

They'd headed back towards where all the soft and yummy things lived: town.

* * *

Gaston took a deep breath, readying himself to venture into the unknown. There must be no hesitation. He would walk tall and burst into that claustrophobic and creepy little space, and he would track down his quarry and _get out _before anything unpleasant happened. 

He was ready. He pushed off the wall, rounded the corner, and strode firmly down the street.

People's eyes were on him, he could feel it. _Don't come near me, _he thought at them. _It's none of your business and I know exactly what I'm doing._ He reached the door, knocked it open and stepped through.

He was there. In the bookshop.

He tried to let his breath out slowly, but his adrenaline was spiking as he looked around. In all his years hunting he'd never walked into a lair populated by so _many _of the enemy. Books everywhere. Hundreds of them, thousands perhaps. Piled up on shelves that were even taller than he was, looming over him...

So orderly and so, so many... _this is a hive, _he thought. A bookhive.

Before he could figure out what to do first, a soft voice spoke up from behind him. "Gaston! What a surprise. Can I help you?"

He whipped around to the wizened old man and snapped without thinking: "I don't need help." Then, embarrassed by his overreaction, he ducked into one of the aisles.

The bookkeeper looked a little puzzled but let him go.

* * *

Gaston had thought this through. The book Belle had cried over was blue, so clearly blue books were the kind she liked. That was fine; there were plenty of blue books here. Her old book was only about the size of his hand, but since he wanted to go the whole hog and _really _impress her, he picked out a blue book that was nearly two feet tall. Perfect. 

He carried it to the front of the store and dumped it on the counter. "Belle needs this," he announced. "What does it cost?"

The bookkeeper blinked. "_Illustrated Guide to Detecting Witchcraft and Defeating Its Practitioners,"_ he read aloud. Gaston didn't seem to have registered that, so he added gently, "Are you sure this is the one she wants?"

"I know exactly what my wife wants. How much?"

He hesitated, not wanting to offend his customer. "You've, er, made a good choice, Gaston... you've found a very old and valuable book, probably one of my best... but Belle, um, she might find the pictures a little... disturbing."

Gaston's eyes narrowed. "Pictures? She doesn't usually read books with pictures..." He opened the book and was immediately confronted with a full-page illustration of... _what_?

He squinted at it. Some kind of scaly beast with a forked tail, something that would probably require a very big arrow through the eyeball to take down... and beside it, lit by a low and ominous-looking fire, several mildly attractive women seemed to be dancing. With no clothes on.

He frowned. If this was the sort of thing Belle looked at in her spare time, it was no _wonder _she was so strange!

He flipped to a point later in the book and it was a picture of a group of men in funny hats... holding pen and paper; as usual it was the scholars who were the strange ones... and they seemed to be dangling a very handsome and unhappy-looking man from the ceiling by his wrists. Gaston made a face - like the dancing women from earlier in the book, the fellow was stark naked.

"Belle shouldn't be reading this," he said with authority. "I'm going to get her something more... normal."

"Good idea," the bookkeeper agreed. "And I have just the thing."

He brought one from behind the desk, and Gaston looked at it suspiciously. "That one is orange," he pointed out. "Belle likes the blue ones."

If the bookkeeper had had any lingering hope that Gaston knew anything at all about literature, that dispelled it right away. "Well, yes, this one is orange on the outside..." he said patiently, "But on the inside, it's the same sort of book that Belle keeps at home. Shall I show you how to tell?"

"I don't read."

"That's fine. You're a hunter; you track. That's good enough. Look at this." He opened the orange book and pointed to one of the tiny markings. "See these marks, the little ones high on the outside of the letters? That's the mark of dialog - _she said, _or _he shouted, _that sort of thing. Follow?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Well, dialog you'll find in a story. In a book of information, philosophy, history, that sort of thing, you won't find dialog. Belle likes stories. Understand?"

"Hmm..." Gaston flipped through the orange book and saw quotation marks on nearly every page. He opened up the terrible blue witchcraft volume and skimmed over a bit. "No dialog, no story. That's easy." He had already dumped a pouch of gold on the counter before it occured to him to ask, "And how do I tell what the story's about - without reading it?"

The bookkeeper tore his eyes away from the ridiculously huge sum - Gaston must never have bought a book in his life - and thought it over. "That's a tricky one... but I suppose this might help." He opened the orange book to its first page and pointed. "_Once upon a time,_" he enunciated carefully, showing him the words. "That's the beginning of a fairy tale. Here - I'll write it out for you."

He printed it on a slip of paper and Gaston put it in his pocket. "So, a book full of dialog that starts this way is a fairy tale? Good. Belle likes fairy tales. While she's stuck in bed for months bearing my children, I'll get her some more to keep her occupied."

"That's...er... a wonderful idea." The bookkeeper gave Gaston his change - most of the pile - and sent him on his way with a cheery "Hope to see you again!" It was only after Gaston was gone that he realized, with some surprise, that he meant it.

* * *

So that night, Gaston sat relaxing by the fire, petting his dog and congratulating himself on having finally found a way of keeping his wife quiet and happy and sitting home where she belonged. 

Belle sat by the fire too, next to him for a change, reading and petting his hair absently with her other hand.

She had even - voluntarily - given him a great big hug and a kiss on the cheek today. Things were looking up.

In fact, by his estimation - and Gaston was _never _wrong; he had never ever spoiled a colt or puppy by training it too hard too fast - by his estimation, it was about time for Belle to give up her silly habit of sleeping on the couch. Tonight, he decided, she would sleep where she belonged: in the actual bed, like an actual wife.

He was just about to tell her so, when they were interrupted by a terrific banging on their front door. "Not now, Lefou!" Gaston shouted without getting up. The banging only got louder.

Belle had put her book down and her eyes were wide. "Gaston... that's not Lefou," she whispered, scooting close to him.

* * *

TBC. 

Whuddyathink so far???


	10. Chapter 10

Gaston was on his feet almost before she had finished speaking. He snatched up his gun from by the door and threw it open without even asking first who it was. "Well?"

"Gastoncomequickgetchergun-"

"Mondieulouisisbleedingeverywhere-"

"Wewerejustoutsidewhen-"

"Hold it!" he shouted over them. "If you all talk at once I can't even hear you." He pointed to the fellow with the biggest gun. "You. What happened?"

"Don't know what it was… they're saying wolves… something attacked Louis and about half my sheep and God knows what else tonight. Maybe it's that Beast again… are you sure you killed it?"

Gaston resisted the urge to look back to Belle. "Positive. Well… whatever's out there tonight, we'll take care of _it, _too. It can keep the Beast company down in Hell!"

The men outside cheered. Lefou tugged on Gaston's pant leg. "They're saying there's a lot of them, whatever it is," he said quietly. "I think you should bring the bow, too. Just to be safe. And maybe your dog."

Gaston ducked back inside to equip himself more fully, and found his wife and dog on their feet. "Where do you think _you're _going?" he asked the two of them.

"I'm coming with you, Gaston."

If he were in a better mood he would have laughed. "Are you crazy?"

"I'm not staying alone in here if some wild animals are on a rampage!" Belle realized she sounded hysterical and tried to reason with him instead. "You're all going to be together – it's safer."

"No!" As he stuffed arrows into his quiver he explained, "Go get the gun down from over the bed… you know how to fire it… and wait by the window. Rameau will let you know if anything's outside that shouldn't be."

Belle watched the dog growling and pacing and tossing his head. "You're not taking him with you? _He _thinks you're taking him with you."

"If it's the wolves again, it's beyond him. Where do you think that limp came from? I'm leaving. Wish me luck."

"Wait- but-"

The door slammed.

* * *

The Beast was growling about having his hair pulled. 

"You have only yourself to blame, you know that," Mrs. Potts pointed out. "If you hadn't knocked over all that furniture the mirror would never have broken, and then you could find out everything from a distance."

"I know." The Beast's voice was soft, almost defeated. He closed his eyes as they fussed with his bangs, and asked quietly, "So what should I tell her?"

"Don't _tell _her anything, sir," Mrs. Potts advised. "Just let her see that you're all right... ask her how things are going with her... and if she says she is married, wish her the best of luck and leave. Now, if somehow Lumiere was wrong..."

"If that monster forced her, somehow..." the Beast was starting to growl.

"Stay calm, would you!" Mrs. Potts stepped back to look him over.

"I will." He got himself under control again and added, "I'll have the carriage stop far outside the village, and I'll sneak in the rest of the way alone. At night. The less I am seen, the better."

Lumiere huffed from behind them, "Enough with the sounding hopeless! Please! Can we not just change him back now?"

"Oh, I think that would be rash." Mrs. Potts adjusted his bandage and helped him put his coat over it. "You're better, Master, but not _that _much better... It would be silly to tempt fate."

"Fate has not been kind to me," he agreed. "Well, how do I look? I mean- don't answer that."

"You look just as you did when she fell in love with you," Mrs. Potts said with a warm smile. "Now go."

The Beast got into the carriage and headed for town.

* * *

Gaston was in his element. 

"Lefou, Martin, and Luc with me. The rest of you: get everyone inside, lock up whatever animals are outdoors. Don't travel alone. Torches, flames, dogs, do whatever you can to chase the beasts towards the old barn behind Luc's house. We're going to set a trap."

He and his friends herded some sheep into the barn and tied them there. They left the door open and climbed up into the hayloft.

They waited there. Lefou eventually started to fidget. "I'm not sure I like this. What if they come up here?"

"Shut up - they _can't _get up here," Gaston hissed. "We'll shoot them through the trap doors and never even have to get close. What's that noise - that clicking? Lefou, what are you- stop it!"

Lefou had been playing with his flint and finally managed to spark a flame. "There - that's better. Not half as scary when you can see-"

Gaston picked him up by the neck and shook him, which made Lefou kick wildly. Glowing hay scattered and Gaston snarled to his friends to smother the fire. "We have to see in the dark," he reminded them, "And we can't if there's a flame in our eyes."

Just then, they heard a growling, squealing disturbance in the barn below them. They strained to see down into the blackness.

Wolves. A bunch of them . Gaston's eyes locked on a target first and he put an arrow through its shoulder. The wolf yelped and jumped into the air. He was nowhere near high enough to snap at the men leaning down from the loft, but Lefou flinched anyway, knocking Martin's gun from his hand. Martin scrambled after it, overbalanced, and fell down out of the loft. Lefou made a grab for him, missed his hand by a mile and fell down too.

Luc shouted "_Allons_, Gaston, we have to help them!" and jumped, a long hunting knife in each hand. Gaston weighed his options quickly: jump down into danger now, or stay where it was safe and be trapped, alone in the loft, wolves prowling below him...

Unappealing. Not to mention he simply _couldn't _be outshone by Luc, who was at least seventy-five years old...

Gaston blew hastily at the embers in the hay, wanting to light things up a little, and then drew his knife and dropped down to the battle below.

He landed on one knee, blew his hair out of his eyes, and instantly something rank and furry barrelled into him. This was not a problem - he had been wrestling dogs of this size since he was six years old. Gaston stuck his knife in his teeth, where it helped keep the wolf's jaws from closing over his face, and fought for a top position where he could use his weight to hold it down while he slugged it in the nose and then stabbed it til it was still.

He stood, scrambled up onto a crate and drew his bow. He took two perfect shots before a scream from Martin distracted him. He turned and managed to make out a real mess - blood, wolf, person, wolf, blood-

He saw at once that he would not be able to get a clear shot - he'd be as likely to hit his friend as the animal - so he looked looked elsewhere for a target and found wolves that he could be more certain of killing. He wished Martin would be quiet - the screams were interfering with his ability to concentrate. (And they made it completely impossible for him to hear what crept up behind him...)

It was Lefou who ended up coming to help the injured man. He had picked up an axe that was far too big for him, and swung it two-handed at the wolf's back. It let go of Martin and rounded on him instead, but before anything disastrous happened, a large snarling pair of jaws snapped shut on the wolf's throat and dragged it to the ground.

Lefou squinted to make it out by the light of the small (but growing) fire in the hayloft. "Rameau? What are you doing here, where's Belle?"

"Forget the dog," Martin ordered, taking up the axe for himself and giving Lefou a more reasonable-sized knife instead. "Luc needs help, come on."

"Sure, let's go!" Forgetting was Lefou's specialty.

* * *

TBC. 

Aright, the Beast will soon be thoroughly in the picture. And Gaston will not escape this fight unscathed. Happy?


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: by the way, this entire story was done without spellcheck, so if there are some... creative spellings, then sorry.

* * *

The first rays of the sun fell in Belle's eyes, and woke her right up. She'd dozed off on the couch, gun laying across her lap, still alone and a little scared. 

The dog was no longer curled up around her feet - he was sitting patiently outside the kitchen, nosing at the door as if he wanted to go in. There was something of a racket going on in there, furniture shifting and things dropping and some mumbling that sounded like Gaston talking to himself. Belle was a little relieved to know that he was back... and a little disgusted with herself for feeling that way.

She knocked on the kitchen door. "Gaston?"

"Not now, Belle, I'm…busy." His voice was a little shaky and she frowned.

"I'm coming in."

"I said _not now_, Belle, I'm in the middle of-"

"Oh, _no_!" Belle took one look at the situation and covered her mouth. Gaston was sitting on the chair with one leg propped up on the table, sewing up a gash that ran from his knee to his ankle. He was positively _covered _in blood, spattered everywhere and the back of his shirt soaked through. He didn't raise his head to look at her; his concentration was focused entirely on the tiny needle in his massive hand. Sweat and blood dripped down from a lock of hair that was hanging in his face, and he blew upwards at it absently.

"I'm almost done." He stuck the needle in for another stitch and Belle couldn't watch. "Al…most…done." When he was finished with the cut and had tied off the string he was using, he looked up at his wife for the first time. "Well? What is it?"

"I-I- a doctor," she stuttered, horrified. "We have to get you a-"

Gaston threw back his head and laughed. "Belle, you can't be serious! A doctor? For a couple of scratches and bites? Look, if you _really_ want to be helpful, you can heat me up some more water for a bath. There's going to be a party tonight to celebrate my impressive victory, and I can't go looking like this."

"A party? You can't go to a _party_ - you'll be lucky not to go to a _cemetery _if we don't get those cuts closed up!" He was still just smiling at her. "Gaston?" she pressed. "Your eyes aren't right... _look _at me, will you? You look terrible."

"I _am _looking." It was clearly an effort, but Gaston got his eyes to focus. "And I look _fine_," he insisted, reaching for the dagger he had stuck into the tabletop. He looked at his reflection for a moment, and then handed the blade to Belle as though it were proof. "See? There's not a scratch on my face - it's still perfect." He shook his head, wishing it would clear. "What was I saying again?"

"That you're in terrible shape, and that your back is still bleeding."

The loopy smile went away and his face darkened. "Yes, well something mauled me - from behind."

"Should I... see what I can do about it?" she asked hesitantly. Lately she had been making an effort to stop thinking of the Beast at every opportunity, but here she couldn't help it. She'd helped _him, _too, with his scratches and bites... the poor thing...

"Thanks, Belle." Gaston sounded surprised, but rather than look a gift horse in the mouth he just turned his chair around to straddle it backwards.

She peeled off the pieces of his ruined shirt and got up the nerve to press a warm wet cloth against the wound. She was braced for him to explode like the Beast had, but all he did was drum on the table and grind his teeth together. "Sorry," she murmured, "I know it hurts."

He shrugged.

"And you're probably going to have a scar," she warned him, watching the rag turn red beneath her hands.

"It's fine - a souvenir. And it won't be the first time." He shifted a little in his seat. "Sew it, would you? But make sure it's straight - I can't stand scars that are all lumpy and ugly." He started talking, at first to distract himself and then because he couldn't get enough of the story once he started. "They were everywhere, Belle. Huge, dark, wild animals with these glowing red eyes... savage... and the boys were terrified, of course... but I was amazing."

"I'm sure you were," she agreed, soothing.

"Oh, I was. I didn't miss a shot all night... well, maybe a few, but only when Lefou or someone was distracting me. Most were dead on. Those things were dropping like flies... and the ones that wouldn't go down right away, I went after them by hand. _By hand, _Belle, not one in a hundred men would dare attack a wolf by hand!"

"You came home half-dead," she said, almost accusing, "And you don't even seem upset about it."

"Upset?" he craned his neck to look at her. "I live for this."

"Stop twisting around or I can't sew straight." She turned his face forwards again firmly, then rolled her eyes at him from behind. Live for this? It was dangerous, and destructive, and stupid. How very like Gaston to think it was fun! She sighed aloud.

"What?"

"Nothing. It's just that every time I think I'm starting to get along with you, you do something to remind me what a strange, sick person you really are."

"Oh, believe me: there are people stranger and sicker than me," he growled, letting his mind turn to the conversation last night in the barn...

"Where's Belle?"

"You?!- but you're... You were dead!"

"Where is she?"

"She's where she belongs: at home - with me. I married her. You're far too late."

"No - I love her! And she loves me back, I know it."

There was no possible answer to that except an incredulous lip-curl. When Gaston turned away, though, something grabbed him by the back of his shirt, digging in hard and painful. "Let go- aah!" He spun to face the Beast, tearing himself open on the thing's claws.

The Beast let go at once. "I apologize," he rasped when he felt the warm sticky in his hand. "But you're a liar and I want Belle. Where is she?"

"You're not wanted here! Go away. Belle is in my house - **our** house - with a shotgun, waiting to kill anything that comes into the yard. Take your chances if you like, but I warn you: she's not a bad shot."

At that moment Lefou had started shrieking. "Help your friends," the Beast decided. "We'll finish this later."

And he'd melted back into the shadows he came from... but not before Gaston snagged a piece of his cloak and stuck it into his pocket.

By the time Belle was finished sewing him up, all the adrenaline had fully worn off and Gaston was squirming and hissing with every stitch. He contorted to see the finished product in the mirror. "Good job."

"You should lie down," Belle suggested, concerned despite herself. He was swaying on his feet.

"I'm fine. Just heat me a bath. Afterwards Rameau and I are going..." _To find that hideous creature and finish what I started. _"...to the party. I'm sure it will be a great lot of _fun_."

Belle thought he had never sounded more sinister in his life, but chalked it up to delirium and blood loss, and drew him his bath.

* * *

TBC. 

Muahahaha.


	12. Chapter 12

After his bath and a snack, Gaston felt much better. He dressed carefully - new clothes, but identical to the ones he had destroyed - and then picked out a few especially sharp, straight arrows.

There would be no mistakes this time, and no playing around. "This time," he muttered to himself, "When he's down he's finished. No more talking and no more Beast-baiting." He cracked his neck. "This is all business."

Rameau growled softly as though he understood. Gaston finished getting ready, then worried that his wife might ask questions regarding why he had armed himself to the teeth just to attend a party. He put his ear to the bedroom door and listened carefully. He heard a page turn.

He chuckled. "She's reading. I could bring the roof down on her head and she wouldn't hear me," he whispered to his dog. "Perfect. Come on."

They snuck out of the bedroom, keeping out of Belle's line of vision, crept around the living room to the door, and left the house.

* * *

When Belle finally pulled her head out of her book, the house was quiet. Gaston had left for the party already, she supposed. 

She stood and stretched. She supposed she should go. Not because she _wanted _to hear Gaston's praises sung for the umpteenth time, and certainly not because she wanted to dance with his disgusting friends or watch them compete to see who could drink the most beer.

It was because, after all, the party was in honor of the person who was supposed to be her _husband_, who had spent the night risking his life to protect other people. (Although she did rather suspect he had done it more for fun than anything else.) Besides, it seemed he had been doing his best by her recently, and so she owed it to him to make some kind of effort in return.

She decided she would go. And she would even dress nicely and put up her hair.

Belle spent more time making herself up that day than she had for the whole rest of their marriage combined. When she was cleaned and combed and ironed and all ready to go, it was nearly dinnertime and she knew she'd better hurry or the men would all be drunk by the time she got there. She started walking towards town, then flagged down the first wagon she saw to beg for a ride the rest of the way.

It was a couple on their way to the party. They were thrilled beyond measure to be giving a lift to Madame Gaston herself, wife of the hero of the hour, and started gushing as soon as she was inside about how very _wonderful_ Belle's husband was and how very _proud _she must be of him.

"I think Gaston's proud enough for the both of us," Belle muttered.

The woman didn't seem to hear her. "He saved us, we live right down the road, my _children _could have been eaten for breakfast," she continued breathlessly. "I heard all about it, he jumped right in, threw himself right down into the thick of the danger, oh it gives me the shivers just to _think _about it! He wasn't hurt thought, was he? Lefou was telling everyone he's fine, but Lefou always says that."

"He's fine. He had a bite… no, more like a scratch," Belle corrected herself uncertainly, trying to picture the odd marks on Gaston's back, "but he's going to be all right."

"Oh, good. I had nightmares afterwards... you're so lucky, you know that? What I wouldn't give to have Gaston sleeping beside _me_… no offence, Pierre," she added in her husband's direction. "But you're so safe… it must be so nice."

Belle tried to give her a smile. "Yes, living with Gaston is… indescribable."

As they drove on, the woman kept talking and Belle kept trying to ignore her. If everyone liked Gaston so much, let one of _them _play wife to him, and let her go free! Belle wouldn't deny that he could be very helpful in his way, and certainly that he deserved better than a girl who couldn't help trying to murder him, but _still_. He just wasn't for her. When they got to the tavern the woman elbowed her and laughed, "Now you give him a kiss for the rest of us, and be _good _to him, dear, God knows he's earned it!"

Belle laughed back and promised "I'll try", and told herself that she meant it.

She was all ready to make the best of the evening, until they threw the doors open fully expecting to find everyone clustered around a beaming, drunk Gaston…

But instead the drinkers all descended upon Belle and demanded to know where Gaston was. "Where he is? You mean he- he's not here?" she stammered. "He said he was- He didn't…"

Lefou shook his head. "We thought he was with _you_, Belle."

"No. He left. He went somewhere. He's gone somewhere else." Belle thought fast. His dog was gone and so were all of his weapons… he'd been demanding food all day because he needed to 'get his strength back'… he'd been acting, in fact, exactly as if he were going into battle. _I should have realized, _she thought. _Why wasn't I paying attention?_

Could it be they hadn't finished off the wolf pack last night after all?

Belle's heart caught in her throat and she didn't even stop to think how odd it was that she would worry for him. _He's in no shape for a fight now,_ she thought. _He's going to get himself killed_.

As much trouble as she had with her husband, Belle knew she was surrounded right now by a crowd of people who liked him and needed him. For their sake, if for no other reason, she should probably do something. Well, first things first: before she could stop Gaston, she would have to find him.

Luckily, not a week ago he'd been bragging about how he could track an individual person or animal for miles and miles, through rain and forest and blah something blah blah something. No matter how hard she'd tried to tune him out at the time, it appeared that some of his blabber had gotten in and stuck – Belle knew right away what she should do. Rameau was gone but… "Lefou, do you have a dog?"

"Sure – Gaston gave me one of his puppies the last time-"

"Can I borrow it? Now?"

* * *

Gaston was quiet, the Beast would give him that. Had the wind not changed at just the right moment, bringing a whiff of that peculiar blood-and-soap combination that only a human could have produced… 

He turned and saw an arrow already notched and aimed right at him. "I figured you'd come," he said quietly.

Gaston lowered his weapon – just a little. "Why are you here – what do you want? And don't say _Belle,_" he added a second later. "You can't have her."

"_Have_ her?" the Beast growled. "She's not a toy, she's a girl who's in love with me. She said so."

"She also said she hated me," Gaston argued, coming a little closer, "And she's changed her mind about that, too."

"Then let me see her. If she's happy where she is, I swear I'll disappear. But if she wants to be with me…"

"Be with you? _Look_ at you!" Gaston cried. "Who would _ever _want to be with you?"

The Beast's lips pulled back and his fangs gleamed. "Be careful, Gaston." His eyes moved over the ground between them and Gaston got the message – one leap, two at best… much too fast for Gaston to even get a shot off.

And what could he do? Back away til he was at a safe distance again? No, that would be embarrassing.

So Gaston just sneered, "Nonsense – you're too _kind and gentle _to hurt anyone, remember?" He made a face. "Except we all know that's a lie… Belle spent half an hour this morning trying to close up what you did to me last night."

All of a sudden the Beast looked much less fierce. "I'm sorry about that – that was an accident, I told you. I just- it's, sometimes I-…" He looked away. "Never mind. How are your friends?"

Gaston wished the beast would turn its back – no matter how many times he told himself to just kill it and be done, he found he couldn't resist the challenge. If he could just get in a clean shot to the shoulder like last time, weaken and infuriate it, make it a real fight, a fight to remember…

"Well?" It pressed. "How are they?"

Gaston shrugged. "Everyone survived."

"That's good."

"Yes…" Suddenly Gaston thought of a way to make it show its back. "To thank you for your help with that, actually, I've decided not to kill you. Instead, you can have one last chance to go away," he offered. "Leave now, and you won't become the next trophy on my wall." Still the Beast hesitated, so he pressed, "Go on – you're not wanted here. As you saw last night, we've got enough of a wild animal problem without you."

The Beast's face darkened and for a moment Gaston thought he had managed to provoke a fight even without the shoulder shot…

But all it did was take a little pouch out of its pocket. "That's it," the Beast growled. "I've had about all I can take."

"What are you– _HEY_!" Gaston dove for the ground as a burst of light and sparkles and fireworks occupied the space where the Beast had been standing.

* * *

TBC. 

oho, gaston, let's see you judge a book by its cover _now_...

Plenty of action & surprises are planned for next chapter. Let me know what you think so far!


	13. Chapter 13

Gaston scrambled to his feet as soon as the fireworks were over and discovered that the Beast had somehow disguised himself as a person. "How did you do that?" he asked suspiciously.

The Prince laughed, showing all his teeth. It was not a friendly laugh.

"All right: It's an improvement," Gaston allowed, "But it doesn't matter. I'm still better looking than you. I'm still married to Belle. And unless you creep straight back into the forest you came from... I'm still going to end you right here."

The beast-person didn't react in the slightest, too busy staring out over Gaston's shoulder looking stupefied. _Maybe it doesn't understand French,_ Gaston thought. _But it'll understand this..._ He drew back his bowstring and aimed for the heart.

A crash and a scream stopped him just before he let go of the arrow. "Gaston, no!" shouted someone behind him.

It was Belle, of course, and as she bungled through the forest towards him (_how _on earth had he not heard her coming before now?) he considered just shooting anyway...

But then, he knew, she would cry and there would be another fight and he could look forward to poisonous mushroom soup for the rest of his life. Better to explain things to her first, so that she didn't get confused. This creature had showed up with the wolves last night and almost killed him, and now it was trying to pass itself off as an actual person so as to lure Belle back to its lair. Surely she would understand that?

He looked over his shoulder, and winced a little - his wife was a mess. After the run through the forest, her dress was torn halfway off one shoulder, leaves stuck to her everywhere, and pieces of her hair had escaped to curl down her neck. He wasn't sure why exactly his rival was so enraptured with her at the moment. "Gaston, stop it," she said again, more quietly. "Please."

Before he could do anything, the Prince recovered first from the distraction and pounced, tackling Gaston to the ground.

His bow was knocked from his hand, so Gaston fought to hold his enemy off with one arm so that he could reach for his knife.

They rolled til the Prince was on top. "You stabbed me," he growled, banging Gaston's wrist against the ground until the knife went flying. "In the _back_!"

The Prince had been eating carrion all day and his breath showed it. Shouting in Gaston's face produced an more dramatic result than hitting him - the hunter turned his head sideways and groaned as though he might be sick. "In the back" the Prince repeated, landing another punch. He had never been much of a scrapper but it wasn't too hard to get the hang of bashing on someone you were sitting on top of.

But Gaston _was _a fighter, and though he had been surprised he got himself together quickly. He knocked the third punch aside, snatching the Prince's wrist, and wiped his mouth. "Yes, I stabbed you in the back. Because I knew," he snarled upwards, "That given the chance you'd do the same to me! And I was _right_!" He surged up and threw the Prince off him, then slammed him against a tree and held him there. "_You _brought those things down on us last night, didn't you! You kidnap our lunatics, you hassle our women, and-" he ran his tongue out to check, "You just gave me a bloody lip. I've had about enough." The Prince didn't argue with him. "Handsome or not you'll always be a monster," he said quietly. It was a line he had stolen from Belle... he certainly didn't believe it and wasn't even really sure what it meant, but it seemed to do the job: the creature's feelings looked hurt. Time to make it worse. "Now, if you'll excuse me, _my wife _was trying to tell me something."

He closed one hand around the Prince's throat to keep him still, then turned to look back at her. "Yes, Belle?" he asked sweetly.

The Prince, of course, was sufficiently provoked to snarl and thrash himself loose. They started fighting again, diving to the ground on top of each other and throwing punches at anything that seemed to be moving. Finally the Prince got Gaston down on his belly, and pinned him there a moment by kneeling on his injured back. Belle gasped, "Beast- stop it, he-"

More annoyed with her than with his opponent, Gaston surged up and freed himself, snapping, "Stay out of it, Belle - I don't need your help." He got to his feet and, just to be nasty, added: "Although it's terribly kind of you to show him where your loyalties lie... clear up any _confusion_ he might be having; you know how the _lower species_ can't think like-"

The Prince shut him up by charging again. Gaston ducked his flailing arms easily, picked him up over his head, and prepared to throw him against a tree.

Belle grabbed at his arm. "Gaston, _no_-"

While Gaston sighed and looked down at her, the Prince twisted so wildly as to become unmanagable. Gaston dropped him flat on his back.

He lay dazed a moment, and then the first thing he said was: "Belle, please - I should fight my own battles."

"This is pitiful," Gaston complained, watching him stagger to his feet. "At least before you would have been a _challenge_..."

"I'll show you _challenge,_" the Prince growled, and dove for him again.

Belle backed away so as not to be accidentally knocked out, but still wouldn't keep quiet. "Stop it!" she called over their gasps and grunts. "Someone is going to get seriously hurt!"

"Someone meaning _you!" _Gaston shouted breathlessly. "You're not taking her!"

"Well you can't- _oomph_- keep her locked up with you!"

"-_Uhn_- No, that's- _ah- _that's _your _job, isn't it!"

Belle stood there fuming and wished she had a net or a lasso or something to hold them still with. "They're _both _impossible," she muttered. "Someone has to do something!"

And then she jumped - someone was laughing, just beside her.

She turned and was face to face with the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. "I fully agree with you, Belle. Let's see if I can't sort them out, shall we?"

Belle was going to sputter "Who- what-" but then she saw that the woman was holding what was obviously a magic wand, and she couldn't manage to say even that much.

* * *

TBC. 

Sorry to everyone who wanted to see the Beast kick Gaston's ass all by himself. I just think that after being brought up as a spoiled little princeling, and then getting to be humongous and beastly for a bunch of years, it's just not likely that the guy would be good at human-to-human combat.

Review! We're almost done...


	14. Chapter 14

A burst of light separated the two men, flinging them to the ground. The Prince got up slowly, and cringed. "Oh, no."

"_Oh, no_ is right, Prince," the Enchantress agreed, but she was laughing. "For shame! Brawling with the little people..." She turned to Gaston. "And _you_, please pick your jaw up off the floor. Haven't you ever seen an Enchantress before?"

"Enchantress?" Belle gasped.

She nodded, then looked back to the Prince. "You look better than last time, although this mess is still not quite what I had hoped for."

"He's trying to ruin everything," he accused, pointing at Gaston. "You've seen how he is. Aren't you going to _do _something to him?"

"_Do _something?" Gaston repeated, but the Enchantress waved him to silence.

"Your participation is not required," she said curtly. "Go over there, sit down, and don't bother us." Gaston just stared. "_Now_."

With one more look at the wand in her hand he did as he was told, lowering himself slowly to the ground against a tree. He crossed his arms and scowled in their direction.

Next the Enchantress looked at Belle. "If you could detach yourself from His Highness for a few moments, I would much appreciate it. Go on, let go... good girl... and let us speak." Once they had privacy she turned to the Prince and said, "So. About that hunter..."

The Prince huffed and ran a hand through his hair. "If you thought _I_ needed a lesson..."

She shot a small cloud of sparkles from her wand and formed them up into the shape of a crown. As it floated up to rest on the Prince's head, she just stared at him until he got the point.

Crown...? Belongs to a prince?... which means: ruler! _Oh._ "I own these woods," he realized out loud. "The castle, the forest, the village... my word is law." He cocked his head and asked the Enchantress: "May I?"

"May you?" she laughed. "You _have _changed."

The Prince drew himself up and looked over at Gaston, meaning to glare... but for a moment couldn't manage it because Belle was kneeling there beside him, fussing over his wounds.

Gaston was staring resolutly in the other direction, ignoring her.

"You," the Prince barked at last, letting his lip curl the way it hadn't in many a year. "Peasant."

Gaston jerked around to face him. "It's been years since I've had anyone executed, and I don't think I'll change my habits just for you." He picked a direction at random and pointed. "But you're no longer welcome in the village. So go."

"What?"

"Leave. I don't want to see you around here anymore - or around Belle. I don't want to see you in town. I don't want to see you in these woods. I want you gone, now. That is my decision, and I'll have it carried out by force if necessary. _Go_."

Gaston rose carefully, leaning on his wife a little more than he would have liked. "What about her?"

"She stays with me." The Prince held out his hand to here and invited, "Belle...?"

Gaston rolled his eyes. "Not _her. _Her! The witch." He turned to her. "Don't you need to be rescued, or something?"

She stared. "Me? Rescued?"

"Yes. A girl as beautiful as you, out all alone in the woods... you _must _be in some kind of trouble," he said knowingly. "So just tell me all about it, and I'll-"

"Gaston!" Belle hissed, terribly insulted. She shoved him. "You're already married - to me!"

"Belle!" the Prince gasped. He turned to Gaston. "You're not married to anyone. It's over, I say so. That settles that."

"That settles nothing!" Gaston tore his gaze from the Enchantress to grab hold of his not-quite-wanted wife and pull her close. "I've got Belle, and I'm keeping her! If I'm leaving town, well, then she can come with me."

"No, she can't! She stays with me!"

"Oh she does, does she?" Gaston said slyly. He nudged Belle. "Belle, are you going to take that?"

"Stop it - the both of you!" She pulled free of Gaston and went to stand beside the Enchantress.

"Get out of my woods," the Prince ordered.

"They _are _his woods," the Enchantress put in, sounding amused.

"Then get away from my wife."

"She _is _his wife," the Enchantress agreed.

"Would you stop it!" Belle said to her, then turned to Gaston. "Look at me... Gaston, look. Please don't do this."

The townspeople, for some reason, loved Gaston. If she walked out on her vows to him now and he told everyone, then she could expect nothing but animosity for herself and her family every time she came into town. How could she force him to leave quietly without making a stink? She had no idea.

Fortunately, it turned out that force wasn't necessary. Gaston stared her down, seeing her locked in the crosshairs and feeling his finger on the trigger...

And then realized that he really didn't need this one. Not when there was bigger game nearby.

"Well, Belle," he began, stealing a sideways look at the Enchantress, "I suppose a life on the road isn't really best for you after all... braving the elements... hunting your food..." He cracked his neck and faked nonchalance (very badly). "...fighting off the wild animals that'll try to make a meal of you... that sort of thing. Why, I guess only the very bravest sort of-"

"Thank you, Gaston," Belle interrupted loudly, to shut him up. No good would come of baiting the Enchantress, she knew - if Gaston managed to annoy her with his arrogance she'd probably do something to him and then Belle would feel awful.

But it was too late. The Enchantress was watching him, eyebrows raised, looking thoughtful. "I suppose after all I might have a task or two you could help me with," she said at last, fluttering her eyelashes in an inviting sort of way. "Dragons to kill, maidens to rescue, that sort of thing..." She stepped up and held out her hand. "Interested?"

Belle and the Prince were both shaking their heads frantically but Gaston ignored them. "Of course."

He reached out for her, but at the last second the Enchantress yanked her hand away and stepped backwards. "Good. And I'll give you all the details... when you find me."

"Find y- hey!" Gaston dove for her when she started to shimmer, but of course there was nothing he could do as she disintegrated into a cloud of sparkles. "No! Where'd she..." he swallowed, threw his bow over his shoulder, and looked around. "I have to get to her."

Belle would have tried to talk some sense into him, but the sparkles had coalesced into a butterfly and were heading off through the trees. Gaston whistled for his dog and charged after it, ignoring all of Belle's attempts to call him back.

She and the Prince watched him go. "Do you think he'll ever find the witch?" she asked quietly.

The Prince shrugged. "I think it will be some years before she lets it happen."

"Maybe he'll get bored looking and just settle down somewhere," she suggested doubtfully.

"I don't think she'll allow that."

"Really? Then-" Belle started suddenly as if she meant to chase after him, but the Prince caught her wrist and stopped her.

"Belle, let it be."

"But that's awful, we can't let-"

"She worked out all right for _me_," he pointed out. "It's true I was miserable for a while, but otherwise I would never have met you. And I definitely wouldn't have deserved you... I hardly do now."

Belle looked into his eyes and already it seemed a little less urgent to worry about her (former?) husband. "Don't be silly - you've proved yourself to me in so many ways. You're a wonderful person." She reached up to cup his cheek and giggled, "And so handsome, too."

He made a face. "You've been spending too much time around Gaston."

"Not too much," she argued, smiling. "Just enough. It's made me appreciate things I might have taken for granted before... a brain, for example."

"Belle, I love you."

She hesitated. "Last time I said that, there were sparks and fireworks and it frightened me a little. Is that going to happen again?" He shook his head. "Then, I love you too," she told him.

He laughed and pulled her close and she thought he was a liar - his kiss was more sparks and fireworks than anything the Enchantress had ever showered down on them. And they lived happily ever after.

* * *

The End. 

Satisfied, Gaston haters? You can imagine quite a bleak future for him if you like. I tend to think it won't go too badly, maybe that he'll even have a good time, but hey. He might also get eaten by a bear the very next day.

Thanks for reading, and especially thanks to everyone who gave me feedback. I hope you enjoyed the story!


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